


Gunna Go Far, Kid

by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, De-aged Shiro, Gen, Lots of goofing off, Platonic Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 14:05:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10024043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/pseuds/BossToaster
Summary: Shiro finds himself in the body of a six year old.  Again.He's not any more happy about it.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [buttered_onions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttered_onions/gifts).



> Based on Chapter Four of Your Grace is Wasted, so if you're confused check that out. Otherwise this should be fine as a stand-alone fic.
> 
> Happy birthday to both Our Favorite Onion and Shiro!

 

“Again?” Shiro snapped, dragging his metal hand through his hair.  Normally he wouldn’t do that, not after he’d snagged the joints on strands and ripped them painfully out.  But today he prefered the metal arm to the human one.

Because at least the metal one had the decency to stay the same, adult proportions.  The other hand was round fingered and big palmed, clumsy and slow.

It’s the hand of a child.  Again.

Because Shiro was the size of a six year old.

_ Again. _

“Not to worry, Number One,” Coran replied easily, his tone the same cheerful tones as ever.  Normally, it could frustrate Shiro, but rarely so much that he wanted to kick the Altean’s shins like now.  Especially when he looked down and chuckled, obviously thinking that ranking Shiro as ‘one’ now was factually incorrect.

That anger was probably the six-year-old emotions talking, but right now Shiro didn’t care.  

Shiro stared up at Coran and resented exactly how literal that was.  “Why shouldn’t I worry?  This is beyond inconvenient.  I can’t keep shrinking every time we shove me in one of those pods.”

“It’s not every time,” Pidge replied, just a touch too much of a drawl.  “Just sometimes.  Now that we have more examples, we should be able to pinpoint what’s going wrong.  In the meantime, it’s not the worst timing.  And you’re in one piece, at least.”

Expression twisting, Shiro glared back.  Pidge barely blinked, but at least she rarely reacted more to chastise when he looked like an adult.

However, it did normally cow Lance, if only for a moment. Instead he cooed at the expression.

Shiro was going to make a mental list of these moments.  And he’d find a chance to get his revenge.

“I don’t feel like I’m in one piece,” Shiro replied darkly.  “In fact, I feel like I’m missing about two thirds of myself.”

“All the important parts are there,” Coran replied, tapping his own temple.  “We can fix everything else up, just like before.  Your best bet is to just let it wear off like last time.”

That wasn’t the answer Shiro wanted.  Not even a little.

But it was the one he was getting, and he really needed to stop taking it out on everyone else.  Yes, it sucked, but he was their leader.  Even when he was six.

“Alright,” Shiro finally replied, nodding seriously.  “Do you need Pidge and Hunk to help checking this over?  I’d really like to make sure this stops happening, or doesn’t happen to anyone else.”  He wasn’t sure exactly what rules the pods operated on, but he didn’t want walk in one day and find one of his teammates had been reduced to an infant or a toddler.  A child was bad enough.

Coran considered, then shook his head.  “No, the computers will be doing most of the work here.  They’re all yours for the afternoon.”

“Are we babysitting?” Lance asked, voice sly.  

That only made Hunk snort. “Nah, even six year old Shiro is still babysitting us.”

“Agreed,” Keith intoned.  “What are you even thinking here, Shiro?  No offense, but I don’t exactly want to watch you try and take on a gladiator bot when you barely reach their waists.”

That made the room go quiet for a moment, and Shiro had to admit it wasn’t a very pretty picture.  He’d taken on opponents with worth size differences - Myzax came to mind.  But it was a little different when it was a child.

“Altean children can do it, apparently.”  That didn’t make anyone look more comfortable, so Shiro switched tracks.  “We don’t need to do that kind of training. We can work with the lions this afternoon.”  He managed to keep his voice confident despite the pitch.  It didn’t have the same gravitas now, but at least he didn’t sound like he was throwing a tantrum anymore.  

Lance eyed him, lips quirked up.  “Can you even reach the controls?”

“Mentally work,” Shiro replied flatly, hands clenched at his side.  He made them relax, and then his shoulders too.  “I don’t think I’m flying in this condition.”

Humming consideringly, Pidge tilted her head.  “I bet the Black Lion will adjust to fit you,” she pointed out.  “But probably not, just in case.  Plus, you’re pretty light now.  A good impact would send you tumbling.”

Hunk crinkled his nose.  “Yeah, let’s avoid that.  Until we get a lion booster seat.”

Shiro’s hands clenched again and it was a physical effort to unwind them.  “Which is why we’re not doing that right now.  Let’s go.”  He marched off, setting a quick pace.

Or so he thought, because Keith caught up with him almost instantly, and then had to slow for Shiro to keep up.  Keith shot him a quick glance, a hint of worry and question to it, but Shiro ignored it.  He was fine.  He was going to be  _ useful _ this time, damn everything else.

***

Six-year-old concentration was not good for this.

Shiro leaned back in his chair, scrubbing his face.  In the back of his mind, the Black Lion was more amused than anything, and seemed to be egging on his distractibility.  Whenever he’d try to connect with the bond, some display would change on the monitor, or he’d think about the slippers he’d never taken out of here, or he’d shift and be reminded how  _ small _ he was in the lion’s big chair that normally suited him perfectly, and his concentration would slip.

It was getting frustrating.

No, it had been frustrating from the beginning.  Now it was downright infuriating.

Shrio jumped off the chair and started to pace through the room, the bottom of his palms massaging against his temple.  Concentration was nearly never his problem.  Shiro could focus through injury and illness, and shaken off flashbacks to better keep track of what was happening.  That was what he was  _ good _ at.

But now, because of his stupid size, even that was gone.

The emotions swirled in him, a chaotic mess of anger and something small and animal.  Desperate. 

Shiro was helpless like this.  He was too small to defend himself, too small to care for himself, too emotional to take it well, too young to do even the most basic exercises.

Why was he so  _ useless? _

There was another rumble at that, unhappy this time, and Shiro shoved the lion’s presence away.  He didn’t want an audience to his growing emotional torrent, wanted to feel like he was alone and safe to show these weaknesses.

The Black Lion usually was safe, but that was when Shiro was effective.  When he could fly, and when he could fight, and when he could lead.  When he was a paladin, the Black Lion was his space and a comfort.

Right now he only felt ashamed, like if the lion saw him too deeply while he was such a pathetic lump, that she’d take it all back.

There was another push, this time insistent, like a cat pressing against his hand for attention, and this time Shiro gave up completely.  He scrambled out of the Black Lion, intending to slip away and find a quiet place to collect himself again.

Instead he ran straight into Keith.

“Woah,” he said, steadying Shiro when he nearly stumbled over from the impact.  “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Shrio replied, instant and automatic.  “Are you done with the exercises?”

Keith frowned.  “Actually, no.  Red kicked me out.  Not even a word of explanation.  She’s not mad, I don’t think. She doesn’t feel bad.  But I basically didn’t get a choice.”

That was weird, but Shiro just didn’t have the patience to that at the moment.  So he just nodded in response and started to keep walking.

“Hey, what about you?” Keith called, and he trotted after Shiro.  “Why are you out?”

Shiro sighed.  “I wasn’t getting anywhere.  I figured I’d take a moment.”

For a moment, Keith frowned, but then he nodded slowly.  “Guess it’s harder like this, huh?  Alright, where are we going?”

“We?” Shiro replied, tone flat.

Keith arched a brow back.  “Mhmm.  I mean, unless you really need space.  I get that.  But you’re kind of in a position to need help, and I don’t trust you to ask for it when you need it.”

Frowning, Shiro tried to bristle at that, to take offense.

Except that Keith was absolutely right.  He was doing it right now.

So Shiro sighed.  “I’m just frustrated.  It’s harder to deal with right now.”

Keith nodded thoughtfully.  Then he reached over and flicked Shiro’s nose, right at the tip.

Yelping, Shiro covered the area and glared.  “What was that for?”

“To piss you off,” Keith replied.  “So you’ll chase me.”

“I’m thinking about it,” Shiro replied darkly.  “What the hell for?”

Keith shrugged.  “Work off some energy. You’re a little kid right now, you’ve probably got plenty.  So c’mon.”  He reached out to flick his nose again, but Shiro batted it away.  It took more strength than it should have, but he managed.  “Let’s go, little man.”

Okay, fine.   _ Fine. _  If Keith wanted to get chased, Shiro would oblige.  With nothing more than a flash of a scowl, he darted forward, and Keith had to backpedal from the sudden move.  Shiro pivoted on his heels, the smaller shoes they’d found him squeaking on the floor of the communal training hangar.  Keith was already jogging away, and Shiro tore after him.

Just as Shiro was about to catch up, Keith twisted out of the way.  He folded his hands behind his back, brows up as he smirked down at Shiro.  “Almost,” he replied, voice calm.

It pinged something in Shiro’s head, but the frustration and annoyance were too much to overlook.  Shoving it away, he grabbed for Keith again, who stepped nearly back without moving his arms.

“You’re not thinking this through,” Keith told Shiro flatly, as he continued to step backward just out of Shiro’s grabbing reach.  “You’re projecting your movements because you’re frustrated, and that just makes it easier.”  He paused, like he was waiting for Shiro’s response, but all he got was a glare.  “Focus, Keith.”

The wrong name finally made Shiro stop, and he stared up at Keith.  He got a grin back in return.

Oh.   _ Oh. _  This was...

He’d said the same thing to Keith a dozen times back at the Garrison.  Hell, Shiro had been intentionally annoying about it too, goading Keith into spars with him rather than getting riled into fights with others in his year.  Besides, it had been a little fun to mess with Keith, dodging out of the way of his strikes and blows and happily spouting off technically helpful but irritating advice.

The memory cracked through Shiro’s frustration like sunshine through cloud cover.  He smiled back at Keith’s look, a chuckle escaping.

Or, well, what was supposed to be a chuckle.  At his size and pitch it was really more of a giggle.  Shiro clapped his hands over his mouth, hiding the smile and muffling more of those noises.

“Oh, no, you’re not getting out of this.”  Keith kneeled down in front of Shiro, then reached out, telegraphing his movements.  When Shiro didn’t flinch, he rested his fingers along the sides of his ribs.

Then he smirked and tickled.

Shiro  _ shrieked, _ the noise completely involuntary, and he grabbed onto Keith’s shirt as he twisted and bucked.  “Keith, why- ah!”  More of the giggles spilled out as Shiro kicked at the air.  “What are you- hey!”  He buried his face in Keith’s shoulder, unable to help struggling but unwilling to actually hit at Keith.

“Excuse me,” someone called, and Keith and Shiro both turned to look at Lance.  He had his hands on his hips, and he was staring them down with one brow up.  “I’m sorry, I thought we were training, yet I seem to see you two goofing off.”  For a moment Lance’s continued to scowl, but then a grin cracked over his face.  “If there’s goofing off I want  _ in.  _  You’re not leaving me out of this.”

Shiro straightened and set his shoulders, schooling his face back into neutrality.  “I would never goof off.”

Snickering, Hunk climbed out of the Yellow Lion and made his way over.  “Sure, okay.  It’s a few months too late for that one, but you can try.”  He eyed them all, only glancing away as Pidge made her way over as well.  “What are you two even doing?”

“I was having some trouble with the exercise,” Shiro admitted, fighting against a blush.  “The attention span of a six year old isn-  _ ah!” _

Keith started up tickling again, holding on through Shiro’s spirited squirming.  “I’m going to remember how well this worked when you’re full sized again, you know.  It’ll be useful in sparing.”

Oh, boy.  Trying to shove Keith’s face away using just his left hand, Shiro twisted to face Hunk, arm extended.  “Help?”

For a moment, Hunk’s eyes widened.  Something seemed to come over him, and he bulldozed his way over to pluck Shiro neatly out from Keith’s grip.  Then he cradled Shiro against his side, downright protective.

That hadn’t been what Shiro was going for, but he appreciated it anyway.

“Woah there, big guy,” Lance chuckled, patting Hunk’s arm.  “You just had a big brother moment there, I think.”

Hunk cracked a grin.  “A little.  No offense, Keith.  But he asked me to.”  His tone implied that Shiro’s joking plea may has well have been law.

“None taken,” Keith replied easily, standing up.  “We were just working off some energy.  You good up there, Shiro?”  He eyed the way Shiro had automatically leaned into Hunk, one hand tangled into his vest for stability.  “You look pretty comfy.”

“Hunk is comfy,” Shiro replied agreeably, and he was rewarded with a warm smile.  “Besides, I’m enjoying being closer to my real height.”

Stepping closer, Pidge looked him over, expression openly calculating. Shiro leaned back into Hunk, unsure what she was thinking.  “How tall are you right now?  About four feet?”  When she got a nod, Pidge turned around and tapped her back.  “Hop on.”

Wait, what?  She wanted...

“I’m a little heavy for that,” Shiro replied carefully.

Pidge only glanced back over her shoulder, expression flat.  “You’ve seen the equipment I lug around, right?  I can manage a six year old on my back.”

Fair enough.  With a little help from Hunk to keep himself in the air, Shiro latched on so his legs slotted by Pidge’s elbows.  When they both straightened up, Shiro was only shy of Hunk’s height by a couple of inches, so missed his own by about three.  But that was about as good as it was going to get.

“Apparently I need to grow more,” Shiro said flatly.

Pidge grunted.  “Let’s not.  I can take it, but you’re not really  _ light, _ either.”

Yeah, over sixty pounds of child wasn’t nothing.  But Pidge shifted and seemed to have it under control, or at least she didn’t seem interested in putting him down.

“You know, it’s little sibling law that anything dished out must also be taken,” Pidge drawled, eyeing Keith.

Normally Shiro would protest that he wasn’t anybody’s little brother, but instead he gave a sudden, toothy grin.  “Is it?”

“Uh oh,” Keith murmured, taking a step back.  

Lance snorted.  “Yeah, everyone knows that.  It’s on the international books.  Retribution must be made.”  He shot Keith a smug look, and got a glare in return.

Holding up a hand, Hunk rested it on Shiro’s back like he was trying to hold them up.  “Are you guys sure-”

“Charge!”  Pidge cried, sprinting at Keith and making Shiro have to cling to her shirt to keep from toppling over.  His balance wasn’t helped by the way he burst out into laughter at Keith’s near panicked look as he turned and fled.

***

Later, when they were all thoroughly out of energy, Shiro found himself bundled up in a blanket under the couch, tucked between Hunk and Lance.  They’d put on one of the Altean nature documentaries rather than go through their own movie stash, and everyone had fallen into a drowse.

Shiro glanced over at Lance and Pidge, who were leaning against each other as they snoozed.  Then he glanced down at the fuzzy, lion-covered blanket that he’d been mockingly cooed into.  After a moment, he started to squirm his way free.

“Too hot?” Hunk murmured, voice low from sleep and to keep from disturbing anyone else.

Shaking his head, Shiro tilted it to the others.  “No, just figured they could use it more.  I’m fine sleeping without it.”

Hunk made a disagreeing noise and threw his arm over Shiro’s stomach, stilling his movements.  “Won’t be big enough.  It’s kid sized.  Besides, it’s yours.”  When Shiro opened his mouth to protest, Hunk sighed.  “No, listen.  I don’t think you get why we like these times.  It’s not just ‘cause we like teasing you.  It’s because you spend so much time looking out for us.  It’s nice to return the favor.  So you keep that, okay?”

Squirming again, this time for a very different reason, Shiro gave a tiny nod.  “Okay.”

“Good.”  Hunk pressed a kiss to the top of Shiro’s head, the movement sleepy and absent-minded.  “Will you be able to rest if you’re bundled up and we’re not?”

It was a painfully direct question, and Shiro winced.  “No.”

“Alright.”  With that, Hunk heaved himself off the couch with a sleepy groan, then moved to one of the cabinets.  He pulled out three blankets, then went through the room, draping one over Keith, where he’d curled into a little ball against the armrest, another for Pidge and Lance to share, and then one for himself.  Settling back down, he yawned.  “That better?”

It really was.  Shiro relaxed all at once, now that he didn’t feel like he was selfishly hoarding the blanket.  “Yes.  Thank you, Hunk.  I appreciate it.”

Hunk smiled back and wrapped an arm around Shiro’s shoulders, tugging him over until he leaned into Hunk’s bulk.  “No problem at all.  We want you happy, you know.”

“Yeah, I do.”  

Because they did.  Same as Shiro wanted for them.

And right now, they were.  


End file.
